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Draco Malfoy & the House of Seraphim	By : KaliDiah Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > General - Misc Views: 20461 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Angel, or Harry Potter or their associated characters, settings, or concepts. They belong to their various creators & distributing agencies, and have only been borrowed for entertainment purposes with no intent to profit.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Draco stretched as he walked into the living room. On the coffee table was a small pile of books. He wandered over to them and picked one up. As he slowly started leafing through it, he heard someone approaching.

"The Watchers' Diaries," Angel said from the bottom of the stairs. He stepped into the room, but stopped just within the doorway. "Wes got them together last night before leaving."

"That was nice of him," Draco murmured. "How did your meeting go? I heard you get upset ..."

"Did ... did I wake you?"

Draco could tell something was bothering the vampire, but he had no clue as to what. Draco was a master at reading people, and it was clear that Angel was agitated. The worst part was, Angel couldn't seem to look at Draco. His eyes darted this way and that, glancing at everything but the young wizard. Angel was uncomfortable, and Draco felt the need to soothe him. "Yes, but it's okay. I got back to sleep eventually." He smiled reassuringly.

Angel just nodded. It seemed the vampire couldn't be soothed that way.

"So," Draco said, trying to prompt him into conversation, "did you find out anything interesting?"

"Ohhhhhhh, yeah," Angel said under his breath. He apparently realized Draco had heard him, and he backed away a few steps.

Draco became unsettled. Angel had his hands stuffed into his pockets, as if trying to restrain them, and he was purposely keeping his distance. Something was definitely very wrong, and it had to do with him. "So?" he prompted again. "What did you learn?" Why are you avoiding me like this?

"Um, well, for one, Voldemort also happens to be one of the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart."

Draco's eyes widened. "Really?" While this was startling news, he knew it had nothing to do with Angel's uneasiness.

Angel nodded. "He's been getting funding from the firm. More than that, your father was more involved with Muggles than you ever knew."

Draco's mouth dropped open, and he found he was no longer strong enough to stand. Sitting down on the couch, he asked, "What do you mean?"

Angel hesitantly walked farther into the room, but still kept to the opposite side. "He ran a brokerage firm in France, and has had dealings with the demon underground for years. That's probably where he is right now. Most likely, he's calling in some old contacts."

Draco sighed. Was this the cause of Angel's distress? Did he think that Draco actually would end up following in his father's footsteps? He hoped that wasn't the case. Then another thought hit him. "We're going to have to fight demons?" Draco asked unsurely.

"Probably, yes."

Draco put his head in his hands. "Anything else?" None of this was helping him discern what was bothering the vampire.

"Well, we made some tentative plans on how we're going to deal with this." Draco just nodded. "There's ... um ... there's something else."

Draco could hear the uneasiness in the vampire's voice, and he didn't like it at all. This is what he wanted to hear, to discover what the matter was. Even so, he dreaded hearing it. With a steadying breath, he looked up at his friend. "What?"

"After the meeting ... I ... I went upstairs to go to bed, and ... damn ... I ..." He paused to close his eyes and take a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze locked with Draco's. "I heard you last night, Dray."

Draco couldn't breathe. Please tell me this is a dream, too! he pleaded silently. "W-what?" he managed to whisper.

"I heard you. You called me and Will's names ..." He wasn't able to finish.

Draco leapt off the couch. He stared at Angel and began to shake. They weren't supposed to know. This was just some strange phase and he'd get over it eventually but they were never supposed to know! His mind began to race, and he found it difficult to hold on to any one thought. Soon, the only thing he recognized was fear.

"Draco?" Angel moved toward him. Big mistake.

Draco panicked. He didn't understand exactly why, but he had to get away. He tore open the door, and ran into the mid-morning sunshine. He heard Angel calling after him, unable to come outside. He didn't slow down until he could no longer hear the vampire's booming voice.

He didn't bother looking at his surroundings. He just kept walking, head down and hands in his pockets. He was glad he had taken the time to get dressed before going downstairs, complete with shoes. It wouldn't have done him any good to go walking around Los Angeles in his pajamas. However, he did wish he had eaten something before running out of the house.

But he couldn't go back there now. Not after what had happened. Angel had heard him. He knew that Draco fantasized about the vampires. And if Angel knew, then Spike most likely did as well. Yes, in his dreams they returned his interest, and sometimes shared their bed with him. But he knew that in reality, they would never do that. He was a child to them, at least when it came to age.

Not only that, but he was Spike's great-grand-nephew. What was he thinking?! He had taken the caring and compassion they had shown him and turned it, in his mind, into something more. Something that just wasn't there. Was he that desperate for someone to love him? Whether or not he was, he was most certainly a fool.

How was he ever going to look them in the eye again? They were probably disgusted with him. Thinking those kinds of thoughts about two men who were decades upon decades older than him, one of which is his own damn kin. "Idiot!" he muttered. They were probably in the process of finding out how to ship him back to Hogwarts and conveniently forget about him afterwards. It was clear that Angel had a hard time being near him.

His vision became blurry as his eyes began to well up with tears. The one good thing he had, and he screwed it up. He quickened his pace until he was once again running. He had no clue where he was going, and didn't care. He passed people on the street, knowing they were probably staring at him. After what seemed like forever, he came to a business district. He ducked into an alley, slumped against the wall, and cried.

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Spike nearly tumbled down the stairs at the sound of his Grand-Sire's voice. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with Draco. He leapt over the last four stairs and skidded into the living room. The door stood open, daylight streaming in. Angel was standing to the side, looking out, as if he was watching something.

"Where ...?" Spike began.

"He ... he took off," Angel said, looking sadly at his companion. He then pulled out his cell phone, and punched in the number for Wesley's office.

"Why?!" Spike demanded as Angel waited for someone to pick up. He then groaned. "You told him, didn't you?!" The plaintive look on the darker vampire's face answered for him. "You bloody git! Why did you have to go and do that?!" To say he was angry would be an understatement. He had no problem with the young man fantasizing about him. In fact, he was flattered. If he wasn't so in love with Angel, Spike would have taken Draco to bed days ago, great-grand-nephew or not.

Last night, when Angel had told him what he'd heard, they both agreed that it was a delicate situation. There were so many things that had to be considered. As they had both been tired, they had decided to discuss it later. However, Spike did not think that meant that Angel would discuss it with Draco later, without even telling Spike. And the blonde vampire knew that Angel lacked a certain amount of tact.

It took seconds for Spike to realize that Draco must have panicked and bolted. He was now out there, afraid and alone, surrounded by Muggles in a big city, with no real way of defending himself. Spike's anger grew, and became laced with fear for his kin. This had been the farthest he'd been from Draco since they had met, and it pained him. He could feel the pull of the boy's blood fading. His anger began to subside as sheer terror overtook him. He was losing his Draco.

Instinctively, he leapt toward the door, intent on following and getting his family back. He roared when he was suddenly grabbed from behind and dragged back into the shadows of the house. He could feel the slight tingling burn of where sunlight had managed to touch him, but he ignored it. "LET. ME. GO!!!" he bellowed.

"Spike, you can't ..." Angel began.

Can't? Can't? You did this! he thought wildly. "You!" He twisted in his Grand-Sire's grasp, trying to strike him. But Angel was stronger, and surprisingly faster. He grabbed the younger vampire's arms and pinned them to his sides. That didn't stop Spike from yelling, though. "This is your fault! You scared him! You made him run away! You made him leave me! I'm all the family he has now, and you chased him away!" He kicked at Angel, satisfied as his foot connected with a shin.

Angel howled in pain, but didn't release the squirming vampire. "Will, I'm sorry! OW! Dammit, Childe, calm down!"

"NO! I have to get him back! He's all alone out there! He'll get hurt!" He struggled again, his mind in a frenzy. "Draco!" he screamed. "Come back, please!" He could no longer sense the boy, and the pull was non-existent. "Don't leave me!" He began sobbing, but did not relax. "I have to find him, 'Gelus! Let me go! NOW!"

"No," Angel growled. "I can't risk losing you, too."

Somehow, those words were able to creep past his panic. "Lose me?" he snarled. "If anything happens to him, you'll lose me faster than you can blink!" Spike noticed Angel grow rigid for a moment. "I love you," Spike growled lowly, "but he is my kin. He needs me, and I need him. If I lose him, it will be your fault. And if you think for one second that I would stay ..." He didn't need to finish. He just breathed heavily, finally starting to relax. He no longer struggled, but he was still ready to spring into action at a second's notice.

The two finally realized that Harmony had picked up the phone from where Angel had dropped it. "You guys need to find Draco, and you need to do it now, or else Spike is going to try to find him himself ..."

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Winnifred Burkle was generally a well-mannered young woman. She hardly ever raised her voice, and she certainly never cursed.

Until now.

When Angel called, panic lacing his words, she was one of the first to head down to the underground garage to grab one of the company cars. She was halfway out of Wesley's office when Spike's screaming came through over the speaker-phone. Angel apparently dropped the receiver in order to hold his Grand-Childe back from running out into the sun. Harmony picked it up, telling them that they needed to find Draco, and they needed to do it now, or else Spike was going to try to find him himself.

Fred had taken the car closest to the elevator (which happened to be the Viper), and was now slowly patrolling through the neighborhoods surrounding their base. She strained her eyes, looking for that tell-tale white-blonde hair, but was having no luck.

Thus the string of colorful words currently being muttered under her breath. She then flipped open her cell phone and hit one of the speed-dial buttons. "Charles? ... I'm not having any luck. I don't think he's in the neighborhood anymore ... Yeah, I know, but Angel said Draco was freaked out. Who knows how far he ran before he felt he was far enough away? ... No, I don't know what's going on, and somehow I don't think it's our business. All that matters is he's a wizard who's not used to mortals, and he's lost and alone in a big mortal city. He's defenseless out there, Charles. We have to find him. Okay, let the others know where I'm headed, kay? Thanks."

She closed her phone and made a k-turn, heading toward the nearby business district. Once she got there, traffic was slow. "I'm never going to find him like this." She then decided to find a parking space. After locking the car and setting the alarm, she set out on foot. She peered into every shop and down every side street, but still no luck. "Draco, hun, where are you?" she said to no one in particular.

She then resorted to stopping strangers and asking if they'd seen him. But, no one had. She was about to give up and go back to the car when a tentative voice sounded from the alleyway she was passing. "M-Miss Burkle?" She turned toward the speaker and gasped.

Draco looked exhausted, and his eyes were red and puffy. He had clearly been crying a great deal. "Oh, honey," she said, gathering the boy into a hug, "what happened?"

"It was horrible," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"Well, let's go, and we can talk about it on the way back ..."

He suddenly jerked away from her, his eyes wide and wild. "No! I can't ... can't go back ... they don't want me ..."

"What are you talking about?" She was thoroughly confused, and curious as to what had happened that morning. "Listen, if we don't get back now, then there might only be a couple piles of dust left once we do."

Draco blinked. "What?"

"I don't know how long Angel will be able to keep Spike from coming out here to find you. Or how long he'll be able to keep himself from doing so." When Draco didn't say anything, she continued. "They are freaked out, Draco. Worried sick."

Draco nodded and followed her back to the Viper. "I didn't mean ..." She could tell he was a little confused by their reaction. Apparently, it wasn't what he'd been expecting.

"Of course you didn't, hun. None of us really know how either of them will react to any given thing. But Angel said you were pretty freaked yourself. Mind if I ask why?"

"No offense, Miss Burkle, but yes, I do mind. It's rather ..."

"Private. Gotcha. I kinda figured it was. And, you can call me by my nickname, you know." He nodded as they drove back to the house. Fred called Harmony and told her that she was bringing the missing wizard back. Once she ended the call, the rest of the ride was silent. Finally, they pulled into the drive. "You go ahead in. Tell them I've gone back to the office. Sounds like you guys have some things to talk about anyway."

He nodded again and climbed out of the car. She watched as he slowly made his way to the front door. Once he was inside, she drove back to Wolfram & Hart.

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Draco closed the door behind him and had barely turned around when he was slammed against it. He stared in horror into the glowing gold eyes of Spike. He froze, terrified of what the vampire was going to do to him. "Don't you ever do that again," Spike growled.

Draco swallowed hard and tried to control his shaking, but he couldn't. Was he going to be punished now? He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the tears that once again threatened to fall. He wanted to tell Spike he was sorry, and not to hurt him, but somehow, the words were less than forthcoming. He didn't open his eyes, not being able to bear looking into those blazing gold eyes. Even so, he could feel Spike lean toward his neck. Oh, Merlin! He's going to kill me! he thought.

Part of him screamed at him to fight, to run, but he couldn't. He just couldn't get his body to move. All he could do was press himself farther against the door, trying to gain whatever distance he could. He halfway hoped he would somehow meld through the door and end up outside, where the sunlight would protect him. But, that didn't happen, and he could only whimper when he felt Spike's cold breath on his skin.

So, he was very surprised that, instead of biting him, Spike inhaled deeply, then began nuzzling his neck.

"I was so ... scared," Spike said, his voice breaking. Draco was stunned to realize the vampire was crying. "I don't want to lose you. You're mine, and I can't bear to lose you. I couldn't follow you, Dray. You ran off and you could've been hurt and I couldn't follow." Spike then wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and pulled him close. "I couldn't follow," he whispered hoarsely.

Draco stood wide-eyed. This was not what he was expecting. He thought he would be shunned at first, then it seemed clear that he was going to be punished. But now ... He began to cry, too. He was relieved that Spike wasn't disgusted with him. Fred had been right, they were worried sick about him. Because they cared for him. They loved him. His quiet sobs became louder as he wrapped his arms around the vampire's neck and squeezed. "I'll never go where you can't follow, ever again. Promise. I'm so sorry."

"Draco." Angel approached the pair. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I never meant ... I'm sorry for freaking you out like that. It's just ... I thought this was something that needed to be discussed. I went about it all wrong and ... God, Draco, I'm so sorry. To both of you. What I did was ... stupid."

Spike spun to face his Grand-Sire, taking Draco with him. Draco craned his neck around to look at the older vampire. "There's nothing to apologize for. At least, not as far as I'm concerned. I overreacted. I should've ... I never meant to worry either of you." He turned back to his great-grand-uncle and snuggled against his shoulder.

"Try using more tact next time, 'kay, love?" Spike said to Angel. "Better yet, wait till I can do it meself."

Angel smiled weakly. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Spike huffed and rolled his eyes. "I love you, Peaches, and that's the only reason I can forgive you. If it had been anyone else ..."

"I know," Angel said, nodding. "I love you, too, which makes what I did worse. I should have had more consideration ..."

"Would you shut the hell up?" Spike demanded. He then reached out to his Grand-Sire. "At this rate, you'll be apologizing all bloody day."

Still a bit unsure, Angel approached the pair. Then he wrapped his arms around them. "I love you both," he murmured. "I'm just not used to this kind of ... situation. I don't know how to handle it."

"I don't think any of us do," Draco mumbled into Spike's shoulder. And that was the truth. Even when he was younger and he knew his parents loved him, they had never showed it to this extent. They certainly wouldn't have even thought of risking themselves for him, the way Spike would have.

"Clueless," Spike agreed. "Just have to take it slow. And we have to be open with each other."

The three nodded and fell into silence. Once again, Spike and Angel began purring. Draco had never been happier. Of course, with both of them nuzzling and purring and standing so close ... oh, no.

He was startled to hear Angel chuckle in his ear. "Maybe someday, Dray. But not yet. Patience?"

Draco nodded. "I'll try. But I won't promise anything."

Spike laughed. "Yep, definitely mine."

They continued with the nuzzling and purring, until they were interrupted by a soft voice. "I'm ... glad you're back, Draco."

Draco smiled at Harmony. "Me, too. And I don't plan on running off again anytime soon."

"That's good." She paused for a moment. "Um, if no one needs anything, I'll just ... go upstairs. I don't know why, but, I'm just really tired. So, see you guys later." She didn't wait for an answer and made her way up the stairs.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked after she had left.

"Think it has something to do with that 'I'm only a minion' remark she made yesterday?" Spike added.

Angel looked at the stairs and sighed. "I think so. It's never bothered her before. At least, she's never made mention of it."

"Is there anything you can do?" Draco asked.

"Well ..."

"Liam, that's a very big thing," Spike warned. "I know she's helped you out and all, but you really need to think on this."

"I know, I know. Let me go talk to her. Yeah, she's a pain in the ass sometimes, but I still hate to see her cry." Angel broke from the embrace and went upstairs as well.

"What was he talking about?" Draco asked. He was beginning to get frustrated that no one was answering his questions.

Spike loosened his hold and directed the younger man to the couch. "As I told you yesterday, minions aren't as strong as Childer. What's worse, they really don't have family. Yes, they are still part of the clan that their bloodline comes from, but they're always on the outside, you know?" Draco nodded. "Now, there is a ritual called re-Siring. What that means is a master vampire, like me or Liam, drains the blood of another vampire, then feeds them their own blood, like they would if they were to turn a human. The vampire would be out for a couple hours or so, and when they came to, the master would feed them more of their blood. Like with a human, this creates a bond between them, and makes the minion a Childe."

Draco took a moment to let it all sink in. "So, Liam could do that with Harmony, and she would become his Childe?" Spike nodded. "Can this only be done with minions?"

Spike shook his head. "No. It can be done with any vampire. Even the Childer of your own Childer."

Draco nodded. "Now, you said that you and Liam are master vampires. What does that mean?"

Spike thought a moment, as if trying to organize his thoughts. "Okay, first, you need to know that there's a difference between 'master' with a small 'm', and 'Master' with a capital 'M'. A 'Master' with a capital 'M' is the head of a clan or order. They're hierarchical, so, when one Master is destroyed, another, usually one of its Childer, takes their place. Now, a 'Master' with a capital 'M' is always a master with a small 'm'. They are the highest on the ladder, so to speak. They're the most powerful.

"Now, masters with a small 'm', even thought they're not always the head of an order, are the next down. A vampire becomes a master when they reach a certain ... power level. Sometimes it is inherent, but mostly it comes from age, or experience, or their bloodline, or a combination.

"Being a master, they have the power and the strength of blood to form their own clans or orders. Right now, both Liam and I are in the Order of Aurelius, because that's where Liam's Sire is from, and her Sire, and so forth. In fact, her Sire was the Master of the Order. Darla is also dead so ... Well, bloody hell. I'll have to have a talk with Peaches later."

"Why?" Draco asked.

"Because, Darla was the last of the Master's Childer, and the only one to create an actual Childe of her own."

Draco thought a moment. His eyes widened. "So that means ..."

"Liam is the new Master of the Order of Aurelius. Won't he be thrilled?"

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Harmony was actually surprised to hear the footfalls approaching and entering her room. She was sure none of the others would bother to see what was wrong. After all, she wasn't part of the family. She was just a minion, and an assistant. She tried to quiet her sobbing and concentrate on her visitor. She was even more surprised when she figured out who it was.

"Harmony?" Angel asked softly, sitting on her bed.

"M'okay," she mumbled, turning away from him. "Just not feeling too great."

Angel nodded. "I can tell. I'm not that oblivious to everything," he said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

"Nice try, boss. But it isn't working."

He sighed. "Sorry. What's bothering you?"

It was Harmony's turn to chuckle. Though he may have returned from Hogwarts more vampire-like, his communication skills hadn't changed one bit. She thought for a moment before speaking. "I've just had a lot of time to think, that's all."

"Mmmm," he intoned, nodding again. He shifted his position so he was lying on his back beside her. "And what have you been thinking about?"

She rolled her eyes. What did he think he was, a psychiatrist? "Little things."

"Like only being a minion?"

That hurt. So, he did think less of her just because she was a minion. She sat up and glared at him in anger. "Only a minion?!"

His expression remained calm. "That's what you said yesterday to Draco. That you were only a minion. Just repeating what you said."

She looked away. "Oh," she whispered.

He lifted his head and placed his arm under it. "Personally, I don't pay much mind to that stuff. I mean, you are pretty damn clever. And immensely helpful, and resourceful. You're Harmony Kendall, my personal assistant. I don't care what your vampire status is."

That helped ease her bad mood a bit, but it mostly still lingered. "And I shouldn't either," she said, looking to the ceiling. "I know that. But it's so hard. Especially with Draco here, and you and Spike being so ..."

Angel nodded again. "You feel left out."

Damn him. Couldn't he be a little less blunt? "Yes," she snapped. "I've never been accepted in vampire society, except by Spike and you. Of course, neither of you are exactly normal." Ha! She could be tactless too!

But, he just chuckled. "No, we're not. Normal is grossly overrated."

Okay, that was funny. She allowed herself a small laugh. As silence settled over them, she looked down at him. He had his eyes closed and a small smirk on his face. Damn, he was handsome. Really, really ... "I sometimes wonder," she said softly.

" 'Bout what?" he asked, eyes still closed and smirk still in place.

"What it would have been like to be a Childe." He nodded but said nothing. So, she continued. "And, I wonder what it would have been like ... to be your Childe."

His eyes finally opened and landed on hers, and his smirk widened. "Believe me, being in my bloodline is no easy task."

"Being your personal assistant can't be any easier."

He let out a bark of laughter. "True, true." He looked at the ceiling, the smile never fading. "Why do you think being a Childe would make any difference?"

She sat and thought for a moment. That was a very good question. "Well, more power for one. All my abilities would be strengthened." He nodded, looking at her now. "And other vampires would recognize me as a Childe, so I'd get more respect."

"Theoretically."

She looked at him questioningly, but he didn't answer. So, she just went on. "But most of all, it would mean I actually had a family. I would have a Sire who cared for me, and looked after me."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Sires, as a rule, are not as cuddly as that."

"You would be," she almost whispered. She bowed her head and looked at him through her lashes.

He swallowed and was silent for a moment. She watched as several emotions flitted across his face. Surprise, worry, curiosity, possible consideration. But finally, his expression returned to one of mild amusement. "Harm, you know I can't Sire anyone. Not the way things are."

She sighed sadly. "I know. But, things do change, you know."

He smiled again. "Yes, they do. And for us, it's usually in the most drastic way possible."

"So ... there's still a chance?" she asked plaintively.

"I won't make a promise that I'm not one hundred percent sure I can keep, and you know that."

She nodded. "I know." After a few moments of sad silence, she whispered, "I'll get my soul back, if I have to."

His eyes widened as he once again turned to her. "This isn't just something you do on the weekend because you're bored!" he admonished. "Regaining your soul is ..."

"Call Willow. Have her do the curse."

"What? No! I want you to have your soul, but I don't want you to be as miserable as I've been. No, we'd have to find another way. And it's not easy to have a soul. You want respect from the rest of the vampire community? This will guaranteed take it away from you. You'll be an abomination to them, and it could endanger your existence. This is not something you can just decide ..."

"Angel, I kinda figured that a soul would come with the package, and I'm willing to accept the consequences. I ... I just don't want to be alone anymore."

He sat up. "Harmony, this is just completely the wrong time."

She could feel the new tears well up, and she fought them back with all her might. She nodded again, not trusting her voice.

Angel brushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. "There are some things that would need to be done first, and there's no telling if we can even do them."

"I know."

"I mean. I have faith in you. I think you'd be a fine addition to our little family. But as I said, there are things that need doing."

"I can wait," she said quickly.

He smiled warmly at her. "Can we wait and see, then? I don't want to hurt you by promising you something that may be impossible."

She smiled and nodded. "That's better than nothing," she said, feigning enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could ..."

She held up her hand. "No, it's alright. There is a lot going on right now. I don't blame you for wanting things to settle down a bit, and I appreciate that you don't want to curse me. I'll be fine."

His smile brightened. Then, so fast that she didn't realize what was happening, he pulled her to him, and lay back down. She snuggled into him and sighed. "No matter what happens," he murmured, "you and I will always be friends."

Harmony smiled. "Promise?"

"Absolutely."

*********************************************************************************************

The next day began roughly two and a half weeks of intense research. With the help of Wesley's vast library and magickal knowledge, Draco was able to combine several powerful spells. Afterwards, he worked with Angel to create a new Siring ritual. Once that was done, it took a few days to gather all the ingredients. Angel would perform a modified version of the ritual on himself first. They all hoped desperately it would work.

First, Angel had to be purified. So, just after night fell one evening, he appropriated the upstairs bathroom. He ran the water as hot as it would go, and the large tub began to fill. As it did, Spike entered, handing him a crystal decanter and a bowl of crushed herbs.

"Can't I help?" Spike asked.

"And how would you do that?" Angel smiled up at him as he sprinkled the lavender, rosemary, thyme, basil, fennel, hyssop, mint, vervain, and a pinch of valerian root into the water.

"Well ... I could bathe you."

When Angel looked up again, he was surprised at the lack of lascivious smirk on his Grand-Childe's face. "This isn't just a come-on," he said.

Spike shook his head. "Nope. I want to be a part of this. I mean, it's pretty big."

Angel took a few moments to swirl the herbs into the water with his hand. He then stood and wrapped his arms around Spike's waist. "I know. But, I need to do this alone."

"Why?" Spike tone was petulant.

Angel chuckled. "Because, as I am the first to undergo whatever transformation this will instigate, I need to do it alone. I must show that I'm strong enough to handle it, and that I deserve it. If not, how am I supposed to be able to hand these things down to my Childer?"

Spike nodded. Angel could tell that he understood, but was by no means happy about it. Angel kissed him lightly, then turned him toward the door.

"Well, can I at least get things set up in the basement?"

"Actually, yes, that would be immensely helpful. This is going to take long enough as it is."

"Alright!" Spike said jubilantly, nearly skipping out the door.

Angel laughed, closing and locking the door behind his Grand-Childe. He then turned off the water and undressed. Slipping slowly into the scalding hot water (just the way he liked it), he inhaled the mix of scents wafting on the steam from the herbs. He smiled, closed his eyes, and with a heavy sigh, leaned back. After just soaking for several minutes, he picked up a sponge on the side of the tub, and gently began to wash. As he did, he imagined the water cleansing him, heart, mind, and soul, as well as body. All the sorrows and ills of his past melted away, pulled out of his being into the water. After another few moments to soak, he climbed out of the tub and let the water run out.

He stood in the middle of the bathroom and stretched. He then grabbed a towel and began patting at his skin to remove the moisture. Picking up the decanter, he poured a bit of the contained ointment into his palm. He had made the ointment earlier in the morning, taking up half the kitchen in the process. It consisted of beeswax, hazelnut oil, coconut milk, and lemon juice. He then rubbed his hands together to warm the mixture and gently massaged it into every inch of his skin.

Finally done, he threw on his long bathrobe and made his way to the basement. He nodded and smiled to Fred and Wesley, who were watching television in the living room. In the basement, Harmony, Spike, and Draco were finishing the preparations. With his hands on his hips, he nodded and smiled. "Very well done. Thank you." With murmured "you're welcomes" they left, Spike giving one last look before trotting up the stairs.

In the center of the cemented room was a fire pit, about four feet in diameter, surrounded by bricks. In it were arranged branches of cypress, laurel, and oak. To either side was an upturned crate, each laden with various tools. All about the room, on tables, shelves, and the floor, was an army of candles, waiting to be lit. He turned off the lights, removed his robe, and made his way to the pit.

From the kindling he chose a twig of laurel and set it alight with a match. He watched the small flame flicker for a moment before lowering it to the pit. In a few moments, the kindling caught, and the balefire began to grow. As it did, he glided around the room, lighting each candle, save a white taper on one of the crates.

He was somewhat surprised at his own calm. He was not nervous or excited. In fact, he had rarely felt so serene and relaxed. He smiled to himself again, and returned what we left of the little lighting twig to the fire. He then knelt before the flame, envisioning it purifying and empowering him. He closed his eyes and centered himself. He knew that the most arduous part of the ritual was next. Hopefully, though, if done right, it would only need to be done once every few decades.

Once he felt centered, he took up the unlit taper and held it close enough to the fire for it to catch light. He then returned it to its holder and picked up a silver spoon. He was about to make lampblack, and a lot of it. He held the back of the spoon's bowl in the flame, barely touching the wick. After about forty seconds, he swung it over a rather large crystal bowl. Then, with a plain index card, he carefully scraped the black soot that had collected on the bottom of the spoon. This took great care, as the soot was light and would take to flight at the slightest breath. He lost count of how many times he did this after seventy-three. He just kept going until the bottom of the bowl was sufficiently filled, visualizing the goal of the ritual the entire time. After about two hours, he was done.

He then moved the bowl to the bricks where a pitcher filled with distilled water had been warming. Very carefully, he poured the water into the bowl. He still concentrated on the goal of his ritual, and continued until the bowl was about one quarter full of water. He then stirred the mixture with a long crystal stirring rod, until the lampblack was fully dissolved. This wasn't easy, as the stuff liked to float on the top. But when he was done, the water had turned a dark, inky black.

He then added some ground gum arabic, and once again stirred the mixture until the gum had dissolved. He then left the bowl by the fire to remain heated while he tended to the rest of the ingredients.

Into a large mortar he placed small amounts of white balsam, oak wood, dried apple, linden leaves, sage, bay leaves, dried dragon's blood resin, and an acorn. With the pestle (and his vampiric strength), he made quick work of them, grinding them into a powder. He then once again took up the stirring rod, and while swirling it through the ink, he sprinkled the powder into the bowl. This helped thicken and darken it a bit. Again, he left the bowl by the fire.

There were only three more ingredients, and the ink would be complete. They had discovered that the Gem of Amara was an emerald, and that emeralds were naturally disposed to protective energies, as well as mental abilities, success and money, love, and was the stone of both Taurus and May birthdays (which Angel appreciated, as he was born in early May, making him a Taurus). It was Draco who then found out that the stone had been magickal to begin with. It had been taken from a strain of emerald in Zambia that rested on an apparent energy center. Thus, the entire vein was charged with energy. Already being energized helped facilitate the creator of the ring to make it into a powerful amulet.

He picked up the half-dollar-sized chunk of emerald (one of many that Gunn and Wesley had extracted from the vein in Zambia three days ago). After he had made the purification ointment, he set to enchanting the stone with several protection spells. For the first time since he had stepped into the bath, he felt a twinge of apprehension. He had no way of knowing that this would work. He took a deep breath. No, it had to work. It would work. He trusted Draco and the spells he had constructed. With that, he unfolded a small piece of linen onto the cement floor, placed the emerald upon it, and folded part of the cloth over it. He then took up a hammer and gave it a whack sufficient enough to crack it, but yet not so hard that the pieces went flying. He continued breaking up the pieces until they were tiny bits. He then gathered up the linen and gently shook the shattered gem into the mortar.

He then picked up a clear orb. He held it up to the fire and watched the flames dance through it. It was an Orb of Thesulah, a gypsy artifact meant to hold the souls of the deceased. Such an Orb had been used on him three times in his existence. This one stood empty however, as there was no soul to call from the ether. His was already housed inside him. What he needed now was the inherent power of the Orb to hold them.

After a few moments of crystal-fire gazing, he held it over the bowl, squeezed his hand, and crushed it. This, of course, led his hand to being cut, which was just fine with him. After all, the final ingredient of the ink was his blood. He used the pestle to ground the bits of emerald and Orb and blood into a grainy paste. He then added it to the ink, and once again mixed. He peered through the side of the bowl, and while the ink was now nearly opaque, small sparkles swirled through it (Most likely from the gem and the Orb, he thought).

Finally, it was done, and he could move on. Using a funnel placed into the mouth of a large crystal bottle, he poured it in, leaving only a small amount in the bowl for himself. He then stoppered the bottle and put it aside.

He lifted a smaller crystal bottle from one of the crates. He poured some of the thick clear liquid onto a square of cotton and thoroughly saturated the inside of his left wrist. He counted back from one hundred as he lifted a stylus with a tiny, razor sharp silver tip, a v-shaped channel point on the end. He contemplated the instrument for a few moments as he felt his wrist start to numb. He then dipped the dagger into the remaining ink and drove the point deep into his wrist. He silently thanked Fred for making the numbing salve as potent as she had, for he didn't feel one ounce of pain. He worked the enchanted ink deep into the design he created to represent all that he was to become, and all he wanted to be.

He began with a black ankh, its tips pointed like elaborate daggers. From behind it curled a pair of feathered wings. As he applied it to his wrist, he said, "I, Angelus, Sired by Darla, favored Childe of The Master of Aurelius, Heir in truth to the Order of Aurelius, do hereby declare myself Sovereign of a new Order, hereby called the Order of Angelus. We are new Angels of Promise, honorable and righteous. Let all who see the Winged Ankh know that they who bear it belong to Angelus. "

Then, just above the loop of the ankh, he drew a small infinity symbol. "The blood of Angelus is eternal, infinite, never-ending. Those of my blood who bear the Mark of Infinity are Heir in truth to the Order of Angelus and all its power. They alone possess the strength and ability to reign over the Order."

Finally, within the ankh's loop, he added a small crown. "The Sovereign of the Order of Angelus is royalty above royalty. To bear the Crown of Sovereignty is to bear authority over all who are bound by blood to the Order of Angelus. All borne or in service to Angelus, all of them belong to they who bear the Crown."

It took all of an hour, and once done he chanted a healing spell over his wrist. He smiled with satisfaction, proud of his artistic ability. He was now buzzing with energy as the enchantments of the ink seeped into his being.

There was just one thing left to do. He felt his fangs drop and he bit into his lower lip until the blood welled up. He rubbed his lips together, as one would do with lipstick, painting them a macabre crimson. He brought his wrist to his lips and pressed a soft, bloody kiss to the tattoo. He grinned as the tattoo glowed faintly red. He wanted to howl in ecstasy at the visual proof that the ritual was completed, and had most likely worked.

As the glow faded, he once again closed his eyes to meditate. He didn't expect the flash of light that greeted him as he entered his mind. He felt whole for once. No longer were his demon and soul at war with one another. In fact, no longer were his demon and soul two separate entities. The ritual had caused the two to meld together into one being. He realized that he was no longer a vampire; well, not by the standard definition, anyway. But, this is what he wanted. He no longer had to fear losing his soul and running the risk of delving into the darkness once again.

He reveled in his new existence, but soon felt a new presence behind him in his mind. It was familiar, yet he could tell it did not belong there. So, he turned to face the intruder. Gasping in shock he stumbled back a few steps.

There before him, in a dazzling white dress, stood Darla.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

The purification bath, Balefire and basis for making the ink and purification ointment came from Scott Cunningham's The Complete Book of Incense, Oils, & Brews. The actual ingredients for the ointment and the ink (except for the emerald, blood, and the Orb, of course) came from his Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs.

TO MY REVIEWERS

First off, let me say, I LOVE YOU GUYS!!

Tpena: You will get your smoochies. In a couple chapters. I PROMISE! As for Harmony, she'll be getting what she deserves.

Sora: Somehow, I knew you'd appreciate how that one ended. :)

Aimee: Oooh, baby, I love it when you beg. BWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!! I'm really ticking Aimee off right now, cuz I'm stalling a bit. heheheheh

Raven: I hope Angel's and Spike's reactions were okay for you. And yes, I love smart Harmony, too.

Warconq: Seems you're not the only one thrilled with the prospect of Angel/Spike/Draco slashy goodness. Draco as a pet? Hey, Sora ... NEKO!DRACO!!!!

Blazing Fire: I am flattered that you enjoy my story, despite the slash. I promise that I will be putting warnings at the beginning of the more graphic chapters, as well as any important notes you may need to continue without getting lost.

Ferfer: Can you believe I once read a story somewhere where Spike was related to HARRY? :::thud::: I was like, I DON'T THINK SO! And yes, the thought of a purring Angel and Spike is enough to make just about anyone all warm and fuzzy inside. Ahem.
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Draco Malfoy & the House of Seraphim